


just a minute

by sunkissedstar



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Adoption, Arguing, Bromance, Fights, Foster Care, Gen, Theatre, Violence, but not actually, i also love crutchie morris but what else is new, i love sarah jacobs, it's complicated - Freeform, jack and race are theatre kids, medda's fostering jack race and crutchie, sarah's a techie so she's the superior one, so is crutchie, ummmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkissedstar/pseuds/sunkissedstar
Summary: “Oh, believe me,” Race said, “I know full well how much you don’t care about me!” His tone was close to hysterical, and his fists hit his thighs in unbridled fury. “Dammit, I thought we had a deal!”It was like they’d been possessed. It was so unlike the Jack and Race they knew, enough to make Crutchie glance worriedly at Sarah, whose eyes were glued to the scene in disbelief.~Jack and Race are brothers. They don't fight often, and when they do, it's over as quickly as it starts. At least, that's what Crutchie thought.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Crutchie | Crutchy & Sarah Jacobs, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	just a minute

**Author's Note:**

> imagine actually working on your wip's and not just starting a new fic and pretending they don't exist. can't relate.
> 
> ANYWAY Medda is fostering Race, Crutchie, and Jack and they're all theatre kids for context. enjoy!
> 
> trigger warning: mention of past child abuse and bullying (nothing graphic), violence, fighting

“I’m gonna pack it up early and head to the theater.”

“Aw, boo.” Sarah flicked a grape at Crutchie’s head. “Don’t make me eat alone. I have no friends in this lunch hour.”

“Okay, drama queen, then just come with me,” Crutchie said. He swung his backpack on and clipped his crutches to his forearms as he stood. “I have theatre next period and I wanna run through my monologue for the show.”

Sarah sighed dramatically, glaring at him like it was a personal attack. “Fine, I’ll come,” she said. “I’ll feed you your lines.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know them by heart,” Crutchie said as they left the cafeteria and headed towards the music wing of the school.

“Yeah, yeah, we both know you’re a nerd theatre kid,” Sarah said, giving him a friendly shove. “You’ve probably got a shrine to Idina Menzel in your locker.”

“ _First_ of all, it’s not a shrine, it’s just a picture taped on the wall,” Crutchie said. “Second of all, you’re a theatre kid.”

“I’m a techie, I’m less _obnoxious_ …”

Sarah trailed off when they approached the theater doors, and she put a hand on Crutchie’s chest to stop him. She put her ear against the door, Crutchie leaning his head on her shoulder. He could hear faint voices inside; he couldn’t pick up on any words being said, but whoever it was sounded furious, arguing loudly through the doors.

“Damn,” Sarah said. “Director must be really stressed about the show. Probably yellin’ at some poor tech kid. Maybe we should come back later.”

Crutchie grabbed her sleeve mid-step when she tried to walk away. “No, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Maybe we can help.”

Without checking, he knew Sarah rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Always gotta be the peacemaker,” under her breath. Decidedly ignoring her, he pushed open the heavy wooden doors with a grunt. 

They entered the theater silently, stowing their backpacks by the soundboard. The seats in the house were empty, and the director was nowhere to be found, but there were two people on stage standing nose-to-nose, gestures flying with the words they were shooting at each other like bullets whizzing through the air.

“Jack and Race?” Sarah said quietly, leaning on the back of a seat. 

True to her word, Crutchie would recognize the paint splattered on Jack’s shirt and Race’s unkempt head of hair anywhere. Race was teary-eyed and angry, glaring wildly at Jack. He had his hands balled into tight fists. Jack was mid-sentence and red in the face, voice growing louder with each passing word. 

“I don’t _care_!” Jack snapped, biting the words out like poison on his tongue. “I don’t _care_ who you were with, I don’t _care_ where you were, you can’t just go around and do that behind my back! It ain’t right!”

“Oh, believe me,” Race said, “I know _full well_ how much you don’t care about me!” His tone was close to hysterical, and his fists hit his thighs in unbridled fury. “Dammit, I thought we had a deal!”

“Oh, _I’m_ the one that went behind _your_ back now?” Jack shouted, throwing his hands around in the air like he didn’t know where to put them. “That’s rich coming from a guy like you.”

It was like they’d been possessed. It was so unlike the Jack and Race they knew, enough to make Crutchie glance worriedly at Sarah, whose eyes were glued to the scene in disbelief.

“Shut the hell up!” Race said. “I didn’t go behind your back! You’re just a selfish, stupid liar that doesn’t know how to keep his nose out of somewhere it doesn’t belong!”

Race’s hands flew out in front of him, and he shoved Jack hard enough to make him stumble backwards, pinwheeling his arms to keep his feet on the ground. Jack blinked once, and a long pause went by where Crutchie thought all the air had been sucked out of the room with how hard it was to breathe. The tension was suffocating. 

All too suddenly, Jack regained a sense of control and surged forwards like a man with murder on his mind.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you little brat,” he seethed. He grabbed Race’s collar and pulled his fist back, and Race squeezed his eyes shut in deep, dreaded resignation. Jack’s fist hit skin, and Race went flying backwards out of Jack’s grip, landing on his back on the floor. He didn’t get back up.

That was when Crutchie screamed _“Jack!”_ at the same time as Sarah yelling _“Race!”_

Jack and Race’s heads turned as Crutchie fell into step with Sarah, who was running towards the stage. Crutchie went straight to Jack and Sarah went to Race. 

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Crutchie demanded, grabbing Jack’s fist and forcing it down to meet his eyes. Jack looked surprised, all the anger evaporating on his face. “Who do you think you’re fightin’ with, Morris Delancey!? Since when do you guys start shovin’ and hittin’ each other when you’re pissed?”

Meanwhile, Sarah had her hand under Race’s chin and was swearing up a storm as she prodded the place Jack had hit him.

“Why the fuck would you shove him, you dumbass?” she muttered. “That’s gonna leave a bruise, _fuck._ ”

Race frowned, batting at the hand on his face like a cat. “I’m fine!”

“What the hell were you two even arguing about?” Sarah demanded. Her eyes were hard and cold like stone. “Haven’t you known each other for, like, ten years? I’ve never seen you fight like that before.”

“We… ”

“Jackie, seriously, are you hurt?”

“Crutchie, I -”

“Should I call Medda?” Crutchie said. He was still gripping Jack’s hand with both his own. “She’s gonna wanna know or else she’ll be pissed if she finds out later, I should call…” 

“ _Charlie_ ,” Jack said, covering Crutchie’s hands with his free one as Crutchie reached for his phone. “Calm down. Race is fine and I’m fine. No one’s hurt. We weren’t fightin’, it’s just a scene.”

Crutchie stilled. “What?”

“It’s a scene,” Race repeated. He was on his knees on the stage floor, and Sarah’s hand was still under his chin, like she wasn’t sure if she should let go. “In the show.”

“We thought it’d be a good idea to use the stage,” Jack said sheepishly. “To get into character, I guess.”

Sarah frowned, and her hand finally dropped. “But Crutchie should’ve known about that from the read-through of the script on the first day.”

“I was sick that day,” Crutchie said. His brain felt like molasses, and it took a good few more seconds than he was willing to admit for what was happening to finally catch up with him. “Oh. _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Jack muttered, stepping back as Crutchie released the vice-like grip on his hand. “‘Oh,’ you idiot. You really think we’d be dumb enough to start a fight like that where the teachers are watchin’ us like hawks?”

It was set up like a joke, but the heavy words of _‘We wouldn’t start a fight like that at all’_ went unsaid. Crutchie knew they were there from the strained pause that lay at the end of Jack’s words. It wasn’t something they talked about, but all three of them - Crutchie, Race, and Jack - had dealt with their fair share of shit from foster homes, parents, and bullies before Medda took them in. The stage fell silent for a minute.

“Well… did it really look that real?” Race said eagerly, breaking the silence, and Crutchie had to laugh. Only Race could take something so tense, so deep and unspoken of, and spin it into his acting skills for a scene in the school musical. 

“Yeah,” Crutchie admitted. “It looked really good. How long did it take to get that right?”

Race groaned, flopping his head against Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah patted him sympathetically, eyes flickering between him, Crutchie, and Jack. There was still a note of anxiety on her face, and Crutchie understood the awkwardness of being caught in a family issue. He offered her a small smile.

“It took _so long_ ,” Race said. “Jack made us do it a hundred times.” “Well, it paid off, didn’t it?” Jack said, looking all too proud of himself. “You’re gonna give Medda an aneurysm when she watches it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s such a good thing,” Crutchie said, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Jack walked around him to give Race a hand.

“I think it is,” Race said, sounding just as proud. “I regret absolutely nothing.” As he grabbed Jack’s hand and jumped to his feet, he wrinkled his nose and leaned back.

“Whew,” he said. “On second thought, maybe I regret bein’ in a scene where I’ve gotta stand so close to your bad breath, Jackie. You’re gonna knock me dead with somethin’ other than that punch.”

Jack squawked in protest and made a beeline towards Race, who started cackling as he ran offstage, grabbing his backpack from the wings as he left. 

“Think we should go after them?” Sarah said. “You know how bad Jack’s morning breath is. Race could be dead on sight by the time we see him again.”

“No,” Crutchie said. The backstage door slammed shut to the sound of Jack calling Race ‘a little snot-nosed coward,’ and it was like music to Crutchie’s ears. “Just give them a minute. It’s fine.”

Sarah grinned at him. “Okay. Just a minute.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love sarah jacobs, thank you goodnight
> 
> make sure to leave comments and kudos! they always make my day. also come yell at me on tumblr @sun-kissed-star
> 
> thanks for reading, have a great day!


End file.
